Fifteen More
by Wren Gebel
Summary: Sequel to Fifteen Moments, fifteen more moments shared between Draco and Hermione after Hogwarts exposing what life is like for former Death Eater and War Heroine even after the prejudices were supposed to have died with You-Know-Who. One-Shot! Rated M for one scene near the end.


**A/N: _Fifteen More_ is the sequel to _Fifteen Moments,_ but I suppose it can stand on its own, however there are references to the prequel in this that probably won't make sense if you haven't read it. Unlike _Fifteen Moments_ this piece is rated M. If you're not comfortable with the M part, but still want to read, just skip the majority of the last section from a couple paragraphs in until a couple paragraphs from the end.**

 **Only the plot and events belong to me, so please don't steal them, the rest belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling.**

Fifteen More

Sixteen

The war was supposed to end all this blood-supremacist bullshit. If anything, it's made it worse.

Slytherin or Gryffindor isn't supposed to matter any more.

Pure-blood or Muggle-born isn't supposed to matter any more.

Malfoy and Granger isn't supposed to matter any more.

But it does.

Nobody is coming right out and saying it, but people aren't quite subtle about their opinions either. I've walked into shops in Diagon Alley before and have seen the shopkeeper run to the back when they recognized who I was.

Granger says things like that still happen to her, too. She says that there are shops toward Knockturn Alley that still have _No Mudbloods_ painted on their windows.

It makes my chest burn to know that. It's one thing to turn me down, but another to turn away from someone like her.

But that's how it is; how people are. Bastards.

Granger says it would be good for people to know we're together. She says it might make them see the other side of things. But Granger has always been optimistic, so I say bullshit. Then again, I've always been pessimistic. Or so Granger says.

…

Seventeen

She spends more time at my apartment than hers. There's even a damn box for her bloody cat here. Thank Merlin she takes the horrible thing with her when she leaves.

We have to be really careful. The media hunts Granger. _Hunts_ her. God forbid they see her walk out of my apartment building.

…

Eighteen

I keep it dark in my apartment mostly. It's muggle, so there are electric lights, but I don't like having them on. It makes my eyes hurt and my head pound. Plus, I can't pay for it. I'm living off the money left in my vault at Gringotts, but it's starting to get shallow lately. My mother tries to give me money, but I don't want it.

"I wish you would turn on the lights," Granger says. "It's hard to read." She's sitting at the table in the kitchen, trying to catch the light from the window on the pages of her book.

I sigh. "I can't, Granger." I'm sitting across from her, watching. Just watching.

"You need a job, Draco." Her eyes flick up at me.

My jaw tightens. "If I could get a job I would," I grit out. "I've told you before, nobody wants to hire a bloody Death Eater."

"You could get a muggle job."

My hands go to my hair. It about seems like my only option left. Damn it. I fist my hair and yank it hard.

"Or you could let me give you a job at the Ministry."

"I don't need your bloody help, Granger."

She looks up at me, brow furrowed, eyes dark, but I can tell she isn't really mad. We've had this conversation before. She's angry I won't take her offer, but I think she can understand why.

"Stubborn prat," I can hear her mutter.

My eyes flick to the newspaper lying on the counter. It's a muggle one. I've found out that there are jobs listed in there. I'll look at it later, after she's gone. I'll be damned if she sees me follow her advice.

…

Nineteen

"Let's just do it, Draco." She tugs on my heart the same way she tugs on my hand. "Let's just walk out there together and pretend like nothing is wrong."

I tighten my fingers around her hand, but I don't move. I stay looking at the door, trying to ignore the way she's looking back at me.

"Come with me."

And, damn, I almost do.

…

Twenty

My apartment came with one of those things. It hangs from the wall and is silent most of the time, but sometimes it makes this awful noise and won't stop until I pick it up. Once Granger came over and told me that when it rings I'm supposed to hold it to my head and say hello.

It's only ever her on the other side. But today I'm waiting for someone different to make it ring.

I applied for a muggle job at a grocery store.

Don't tell Granger.

Now this little thing on the wall is supposed to ring and then someone will tell me if I got the job.

For some reason I'm nervous. I've done more difficult things than this before, but this has my leg bouncing and my hands wringing.

"This is stupid," I tell myself. Standing up quickly, I rub my face and go to the window. Granger normally comes around this time, but I don't see her.

Everything is orange out. The leaves have all turned, the grass is starting to yellow. Even the sky is a watercolour painting of yellows and greys and pinks.

 _Rrrriiiiiiiinnngg!_

"Shit!" I jump.

Then I sprint to the little box, fumble with to earpiece, and finally get it to my mouth.

"Hello?"

…

Twenty-one

For once, I go to Granger's place. It's not the first time I've gone, but everyone knows where Granger is and it's harder for me to sneak in and out without being noticed.

I face her apartment door, hands crinkling the paper around the flowers I bought her. I think she'll like them. I don't know.

Taking a deep breath, I knock.

She doesn't open right away. When she does I can tell she wasn't expecting me.

"Draco? What-"

I scoop her up and kiss her until I can feel her surprised muscles relax.

"Here," I say, handing her the flowers and pushing my way inside, closing the door behind me.

"Draco," she says again. "What are these for?" She's breathing a little heavy.

So am I. And I'm still shaking.

"Do you like them?" I ask.

She smiles. "I love them." I feel my chest tighten.

I follow her into the kitchen where she gets a glass cup, fills it with water, and puts the flowers in it, setting it on the window cill.

Then she asks, "why are you so dressed up?"

I look down at myself, suddenly feeling awkward for showing up like this. What if she doesn't want to? Damn I'm an idiot. Why the hell did I do this? Now I can't change my mind.

"I got a job, Granger."

She gasps and jumps at me. I stumble backward, knocking into the counter. The edge digs into my back, but I try not to wince.

"That's great! Where?" She's beaming at me, thrilled for me. It makes me want to cry. No one else would have acted like that.

"Just a little job at a muggle cafe." I'm almost embarrassed to say it. Here Granger is with her big job in the Ministry of Magic, making a big deal over my stupid little muggle job at a damn cafe that doesn't even pay half of what she earns.

"I'm proud of you, Draco." She hugs me tighter.

I take a deep breath.

"Is that why you're dressed up?" she asks. "Do you have to wear a suit and tie to work at a cafe?"

Shit. Here it comes.

"No." It takes a minute before I can get the next words out. "I want to take you out."

Her smile drops. So does my stomach.

"What?"

I try to look anywhere but her face.

"There is a nice restaurant my family would sometimes go to. I think you'd like it. They have live musicians." It's all a rush. A bunch of words thrown together into a really long mumble.

I see her swallow, see her eyes glaze and her mouth smile a little. "Really?"

I nod. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweaty.

"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, yeah. I'll go get ready!"

She grabs my face and smashes a kiss on my lip and then hurries out.

Dazed, I move to the couch. I'm acting like an idiot. My hands are shaking and my head feels heavy so I try to rest it in my hands, but it's just awkward.

This is will be our first date, I realize. Our first proper one anyway if you count her showing up at my apartment and reading at my table while I watch a date.

I'm terrified. My eyes itch and I grind into them with the heals of my hands.

"Don't cry, you fool," I whisper to myself. "Don't you fucking cry."

…

Twenty-two

I expected people to stare at us. To point, probably whisper. But no one really seems to notice.

Granger got nervous when we entered the restaurant. Her grip on my hand tightened and her other hand shot to my arm.

I am more nervous, probably. But I try not to let her see when I smile down at her. This is what she wants, I have to remind myself.

We are led to a table and that's when I notice the first pair of eyes.

A woman at the table next to us is staring, not so discreetly. I try to sit and not let the way she's eyeing us bother me, but I can feel myself growing hot with anger.

The restaurant is dimly lit. Candles hang mid air like they did at Hogwarts, casting soft shadows on Granger's face, making her glow.

I try to look at her, not anyone around us. Focus on her eyes, her mouth that has a little upturn, the feel of her leg brush up against mine. To focus on how beautiful she looks, how her touch gives me shivers, and how her smile makes my chest hot.

"Thanks for this," she says. "Being out with you is like a breath of fresh air."

I think it's more like a bag over my head, but whatever she says.

I open my mouth, hoping something halfway intelligent will spill out, but I'm saved by the server.

"Excuse me," she says.

I try to quickly scan the menu and pay attention to the woman at the same time. Shit. Were we have supposed to look at the menu already? I could ask for more time. Or is that rude? Well, I guess I can do the pasta like I normally do.

"I'm going to have to ask you to please leave."

I'm not expecting that.

"What?" I blurt out. A frown is already knitting my brow and I'm not even sure if I heard her right.

She takes a deep breath and shifts uncomfortably. I try to watch her face, but it's heavily shadowed by the candles.

"I'm afraid we received a complaint that this table was making a disturbance."

"That's bullshit!" I say. "We haven't done anything!"

"Draco," Granger's voice seems muffled and quiet behind this storm that's howling in my head. I feel her hand on my arm, very gentle like she's afraid, and when I look at her it dawns on me.

She's the 'disturbance'. Not me. Not anything we did. Hermione Granger, quietly sitting here, is the disturbance.

I'm pissed. Furious, because somehow I knew this would happen and I'd been on edge for it the whole while.

"Sir, I don't want to make a scene," the woman says.

I suddenly realize that everyone around us is staring. And Granger is blushing and shaking. She stands up swiftly, trying to take a hold of my hand.

"Let's just go," she says quietly, trying to keep her head down.

I stand up, too, but only so that I'm taller than the woman.

"This is bullshit!" I say again.

"Draco, please!" Granger pulls on my hand.

I start to go with her, but I'm still yelling, shaking with rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" I yell. No one answers. It's just these rich, Pure-blood faces staring up in disgust. I yell some more, but I'm not really sure of what is coming out of my mouth.

I stop when I suddenly realize we're outside. The crisp air hits me like a brick wall, freezing the sweat on my hot skin.

It takes me a minute of blinking before my head clears enough to realize Granger isn't with me. She's storming down the nearly empty street, not even glancing back.

"Granger!" I yell, but she doesn't stop. "Shit," I mutter to myself and have to jog to catch up with her.

I get beside her and she still doesn't stop walking, the hard heels of her shoes clicking quickly on the pavement.

"Granger, please." I put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs me off and it stings.

"Just let me alone, Malfoy."

I stop. _Malfoy_. That hurts more than it should.

"Hermione." I don't even mean to say her first name, but I do. I think it's the first time she's heard me say it.

She stops abruptly and I get cold wondering what she might be thinking. Then she slumps against the nearest building. Just falls back against the bricks and buries her face in her hands, her back shaking with sobs.

Walking up quickly to her, I'm not sure what to do or say. Am I supposed touch her? Does she want me to touch her?

"I'm sorry," I breathe. "I'm sorry." I want to say that I'm sorry that happened, that I'm sorry I couldn't take her somewhere nice, that I'm sorry I'm me and she is her. But I don't know how to say it.

She drops her hands and leans her head back, face flushed and damp with tears.

"I just…" she trails off, pressing her lips together, maybe to stifle a sob. "I just wish we would have left. I wish you wouldn't have yelled."

"Hermione, I love you. I couldn't just-"

"I know you love me, Draco!" she cuts me off. Her voice echos oddly around the street. "That's the thing!" she's getting quieter. "You either hate something or you love it so hard!"

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about that. Was that a compliment or an insult? Why does Granger always have to be so damn difficult?

"I'm sorry," I say again. I mean it. I meant it the first time and I mean it now, but I'm desperate for her to know that.

"Maybe you were right," she whispers to my shoes. "We shouldn't have come out. It isn't going to change anyone."

"It changed me," I say quickly. "You changed me. And this," I threw my hand at the restaurant's glowing windows. "I found out I'm not ashamed to love you in front of everyone."

She looks like she's about to break down, but she grabs my waist and pulls me in so tight I can't hardly breathe. But I like it like that, being that close to her. So I wrap my arms around her just as tightly and we stand there like that for what feels like all night.

…

Twenty-three

"Shit!"

I start. I don't think I've ever heard Granger swear before. It's terrifying.

"What's wrong?"

She's got the paper in her hands, glaring at it so hard I wouldn't be surprised if it turned to ash.

"This!" She throws the paper at me.

On the very front page, in big, bold font is the headline: **Granger/Malfoy Love Affair Disrupts Restaurant-Goers' Quiet Evening?** And beneath that, like it isn't bad enough, is a picture of Granger pulling me out of the restaurant and hurrying down the street while I chase after.

Shit is right.

"Oh God!" Granger is clutching her head. "What are Harry and Ron going to say? I haven't even gotten a chance to talk to them myself! They are going to find out from a bloody newspaper!"

I scan the page, reading some sentences here and there quickly.

 _Guests at a restaurant last night, October 29th, were surprised, and a little disturbed, when well known war-heroine, Hermione Granger, and supposedly redeemed Death Eater, Draco Malfoy strolled into the eatery, hand in hand, on what looked like a date._

 _Blah, blah, something about Malfoy yelling, Granger storming off._

 _...Could be seen marching swiftly after her down the street…_

 _...And most importantly, what will friends and family members think when they hear of the obvious love affair between the adored Gryffindor and Slytherin snake?_

"It's not that bad," I try to make myself believe that, too.

"Not that bad? Draco, they said you hexed the waiter as you left and that she's supposedly in Saint Mungo's!"

"I didn't do that!"

"But everyone else isn't going to know that! And what _is_ everyone going to think? We were in the paper before either of us got to tell anyone in person! I wouldn't be surprised if Harry and Ron are at my apartment right now, banging down the door!"

As if on cue, there is a tap on window. A large brown owl is perched just outside with a letter in his beak.

I give Granger a worried look before opening the window and taking the letter from him.

Shit. It's from my mother. Her elegant scroll can be picked out from hundreds.

My lip curls at the mere thought of what might be inside.

I slide my finger under the flap anyway and take out the parchment.

 _Draco,_

 _How are you, son? It seems like ages since we've spoken. I'd like to meet with you on Thursday for brunch._

 _-Your Dearest Mother_

"Goddamn. She knows."

"What's it say?"

"She wants to talk with me over brunch."

"That's not bad."

"With her it is." I crumple up the paper and toss it in the bin. Hopefully I'll forget about it and then I won't have to lie when I tell her that. "My mother is probably the most Slytherin person I know. Everything she says has a double meaning."

"So what are we going to do?" She's wringing her hands, pulling on her fingers and picking at the already chipped nail polish.

I sigh, looking at the ceiling. "Nothing, I guess. I mean, there's nothing we really can do, is there?"

"What do I tell Harry and Ron?"

"Whatever you think will cause me the least amount of pain."

…

Twenty-four

This sun is too bright. Why did we have to sit outside? It's too cold to be this bright. Too early in the morning for this.

"I'm glad you agreed to meet me, dear."

I squint across the table at my mother delicately sipping her tea. My own cup sits in front of me, but I fully intend to let it go cold.

 _Granger made me_. I almost say. Almost.

"How are you doing?" she asks when I don't respond.

I roll my eyes. "Skip the bullshit, mother. Just ask me what you really want to know."

She purses her lips down to a pencil line. "So, I saw the _Daily Prophet_."

"Oh for Merlin's- great!" I stand up quickly, flinging my arms out. "So you already know! I guess we're done here then."

"Draco sit!"

I slump back down in my seat like a damn dog.

"I think we should talk about this."

"What more can you possibly want to know? The paper told you all about it!"

"How long?" she asks quickly and then takes another sip of tea.

"Oh for- I don't- since some time last year."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Is that even a question? Maybe you should go ask father? I'm sure his head is just rolling in his cell! Have you seen him lately? How many ways to kill me when he gets out has he come up with?"

"I don't appreciate the way you are talking, Draco Malfoy!" I snap my mouth shut. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you and all I'm getting are smart answers."

I look into my tea and grip the cup hard. So hard I don't know why it doesn't break.

"Now," she says, more reserved. "When can I meet with Ms. Granger?"

I start. "You're kidding."

"I am completely serious."

"After the way you and father treated her and people like her, and you want to meet with her?"

"Don't forget the way _you_ treated her, my son. And somehow she still ended up with you."

My nostrils flare. Damnit, she has a point.

"I'm not going to make her." I say. "I'm not even going to try to persuade her. Hell, I might not tell her either."

My mother chuckles. This has become a game to her. Just now, this transformed from a discussion to a game. And believe me, she always wins.

…

Twenty-five

So I guess everyone knows.

Most of this has been surprisingly hilarious in a weird sort of way.

I mean, Potter and Weasley's faces were next to comical when I caught sight of them with Granger on my way into the Ministry for some sort of business having to do with my father that I want nothing to do with.

And it isn't like I really have friends to be taken aback by Granger and I, but there are still people who know me, from Hogwarts or otherwise, that seem to both want to make a big deal out of it and keep it hushed at the same time.

It's funny. It has to be or I might have a breakdown. I'm not kidding about that. I've gotten more death threats than usual. They even come by owl now. Sometimes I write back and tell them how great my life with their beloved war heroine is outside of my Azkaban cell.

Don't tell Granger because she'd probably slap me for it.

I'm now hated passionately by Pure-bloods, Muggle-borns, and everything inbetween. So what else is new?

Oh, and I just can't wait until I see my father again. He doesn't get out for at least a year or two, but there is a meeting with him scheduled for me and my mother coming up. That will be fun. I can't wait to hear all about the fuckup I've become, and how I'm betraying the Malfoy name, how I should get out before I've made an entire spectacle for myself.

That's why Granger and I are going out again tonight. She's chosen some restaurant in upper Diagon Alley that we'll be kicked out of because of me this time.

I'm going to make a spectacle of myself before my father has a chance to tell me not to.

…

Twenty-six

Granger should just move in with me. I know she won't, but she should. I hate it when she leaves. It makes me anxious when she's gone, like something is going to happen to her and I won't see her again. It makes be sick, but I don't tell her because then she will feel bad.

She spends the night sometimes. Not sex. Never sex, but those nights are my favourite.

I love her.

And after everything we've been through together, I feel like we deserve something more. At least she does. I'm not sure what that is yet, but it still makes me sick with joy to think about it.

…

Twenty-seven

I've figured it out. I just need to tell her.

I grin to myself like and idiot just thinking about it, my stomach churning at the same time. This will give the newspapers hell, I think.

I'm not really surprised when I see her already at my apartment.

When I open the door, she looks up at me with so much joy in her eyes I think she might already know.

"Draco!" she says, standing up, smile wide and beautiful on her face. "Draco! Something came for you!"

I shut the door and hang up my coat, the cold weather outside has made is cool and wet.

"What is it?" I say. I walk toward her and I can feel the box in my pant pocket jump off my leg with each step. My heart is pounding. I want to make this quick so that it's my turn to show her something.

"Look." She puts a official looking envelope in my hand and beams up at me, clasping her hands together like I'm opening a present she got me.

 _Mr. Draco Malfoy_. It is addressed. _Pristine Healers Institute of Northern France._ Is the return address. And I suddenly remember.

My heart sinks a little looking down at the unopened envelope and the fancy script that marks my name.

"Open it!" Granger says, pulling on my arm.

I turn it over and, with shaking hand, open the flap and take out the piece of parchment.

I'm not sure what I'm hoping to find, but I can't keep my words from trembling a little as I read the letter aloud to her.

" _Dear Mr. Malfoy, Thank you for your application to the Pristine Healers Institute of Northern France. After rigorous thought and careful review of your previous schooling, we are pleased to say that you have been accepted. Attached is information on the start of term."_ I look up at Granger. Her smile is so bright. I try to smile, too, but it feels like more of a grimace.

She takes my face between her hands. Her palms are cool and soft on my cheeks. "I'm so happy for you!"

"I'd have to move to France," I say. I think I'm hoping she'll tell me I can't do that. That she can't bear to be away from me for so long.

"But it's worth it, right? You wanted this for so long!"

It's true. I did want it. _Do_ want it. But I'm starting to feel like I want something else more.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"Nothing," I say. But I meant to say everything. "I'm just… surprised."

I kiss her then and hold her against me, somewhat hoping that she'll feel the box in my pocket and then I'll be forced to ask her.

But she doesn't.

So I don't.

…

Twenty-eight

 _February 13_

 _Draco,_

 _How is Healer training? Is it hard? Remember to keep studying! I did some research and I found out that the PHINF library has over 5,000 books on medical practice! I put a list of the ones I think are best on the the back (I also added some books about muggle Healers because I think it would be good for you to know)._

 _When can I come visit you?_

 _I miss you._

 _-Hermione_

 _February 16_

 _Granger,_

 _Healer training is exhausting. I have an entire textbook just over the different types of plant-related treatments. And everyone here is an asshole. They all think I'm going to whip out my wand and kill them. I'm trying to keep my Mark covered. I know you probably don't like to hear that, but it makes it easier sometimes._

 _Granger, you sent me a list of over a hundred different books I should read. I am not reading over a hundred different bloody books!_

 _I wish you could come visit me now, but I'm swamped. Even my weekends are filled with damn medical charts._

 _I do miss you. I miss you more than anything. It's quiet without you; boring. I feel like an empty shell._

 _-Draco_

 _March 1_

 _Draco,_

 _Sorry I haven't owled back in so long. We ran into trouble at the ministry with illegal dragon breeders smuggling eggs through England and into Russia. The Russian Ministry is having a fit because they want to keep the eggs even though they belong in Canada! I'm trying to sort the whole matter out, but no one is cooperating!_

 _You should read at least some of those books! Or at least skim them! I spent forever picking them out for you! And the more you read the more you get ahead!_

 _Oh! I almost forgot to say! I'll probably be traveling to Russia for a while until the whole dragon egg thing gets sorted out. So I don't know when I'll be able to owl you again._

 _I love you._

 _-Hermione_

 _March 29_

 _Granger,_

 _We made the Daily Prophet again. Kind of. Have you seen? My mother sent me it. They are wondering what happened to us. There is an old picture of me in it. I think it's the one from the restaurant, but closed in on my face. There is also a picture of you. A new one. You're hurrying down the street with a bunch of papers in your hands and your hair all wild in the wind. You look pissed. I cut it out and put it between the pages of one of my textbooks._

 _I love you too._

 _It's weird how I can say that to you without hesitating, but I like it._

 _-Draco_

 _July 6_

 _Draco,_

 _It's been forever. When will you come back home?_

 _-Hermione_

 _September 18_

 _Granger,_

 _I'm staying over holiday. That way I'll only have to be here one more year._

 _-Draco_

 _March 20_

 _Draco,_

 _I moved out of my apartment today. I have my own little house now. There are too many rooms._

 _August 13_

 _Granger,_

 _I thought things would be different. You're so far away._

 _December 27_

 _Granger,_

 _I'm dying. I'm having nightmares again. About you, me, us, the war._

 _I can't sleep and I'm dying without you._

…

Twenty-nine

The letters stopped quickly. They trickled down until, eventually, neither of us wrote at all.

I'm losing her. It's all I can think about. I'm losing her. It makes me terrified, and hollow. The nightmares have come back and I can't do anything about them without her.

I'm over here, she's over there, and this is how it ends, I suppose. Her, floating through her life of paperwork and dragon egg smuggling, and me, sitting here, aching in the chest, shaking in my fingers, staring at the little black box in my hand that I still haven't returned.

Does she even remember me? Of course she does, but does she think about me everyday and wish I was there, or has she moved on? Found someone else, made the _Daily Prophet_ with a man that isn't me?

Healer training is dragging so slowly to a close. After next month I'll be able to move back to England. I'll be able to see her again. Maybe, if she hasn't forgotten us, I'll ask her for dinner, cause a riot in some restaurant like we used to. If she hasn't forgotten us, I'll remind her how much I love her.

…

Thirty

I don't tell her I'm coming home.

I buy her flowers and stand on her doorstep in the evening like a fool. I force myself to knock. Just one knock, and if she doesn't answer I'll leave.

But she does, and by God, when I see her I can't hardly breathe. It's just her, jeans and a pile of uncombable hair, her, but she's the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen. Even my heart hammers hard against my chest, so much it wants to be closer to her.

It goes completely still when she looks at me. I wonder if the world has suddenly stopped the way she just stares up at me in disbelief.

And then she says, "Draco?" It's a question, but not really, testing more that I'm actually there.

I clear my throat, finding it hard to say much over the swollen lump in my throat. "Granger," I say, feeling myself smile at the mention of her name.

She gasps and jumps so suddenly that I barely have time to catch her in my arms. And barely any time to breathe, before she's squeezing me so tight around the neck. The flowers in my hands drop to the landing because I need all my fingers to grab around her waist and sink into the fabric of her shirt.

Legs around my waist, squeezing tighter with each breath, I can hear her whisper in my ear, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug and sigh into that horrible gorgeous hair. "We got busy."

She pulls away, face red and wet. Shit. Has she been crying? If she starts crying that means I'll start to cry. I keep a firm hold of her, arms under her bum, as she takes her arms from around my neck places her palms on either side of my face.

"I missed you so much, Draco," she breathes.

Suddenly, I get the uncontrollable urge to kiss her, to press her mouth against mine and snog her till we both pass out.

So I do.

I scoop to her lips and hold her's between mine, feeling her hands fist into my hair to keep me right there against her face.

"Draco," she gasps into my mouth. It's amazing how she is able to say so much, convey so much passion just by murmuring my name.

I feel myself get hot. Stumbling inside, I kick the door closed behind me, just as her fingers curl around the bottom of my shirt and tug it up.

Shaking, I can hardly hold her. I need to lay her down. There is a couch to the right, I think, but as I move toward it she stops kissing me.

"Down the hall." Her breath is hot, rapid, shaky.

I find her room and lay her gently on the bed.

There is something in her eyes when I look down at her, like a fire, that makes me need her more.

She gasps when I graze over her lips and kiss her neck. I find her pulse and suck on it, enjoying the feel of her blood rushing frantically over my tongue. And I gasp when her fingers finally find the bare flesh of my stomach. Her hands run up my torso, over my chest, nails gently scraping down my sides.

I've got my hands on the sides of her breasts under her shirt when I make myself stop.

"Granger," I pant, looking down at her, flushed and breathing heavy. "Hermione." Her breathing seems to hitch when I say her name. "Are you sure?"

Her face seems to go a bit redder, making my blood pump faster south. Her swollen bottom lip goes between her teeth in this completely innocent sort of way, and she nods.

"Just… Draco? Go slow?"

"Of course," I say and bend down to gently touch her lips with my own.

Soon, she's managed to hike my shirt up far enough that I just take it off altogether. Her hands go wild over my stomach, fingers stretching out onto my back. I even us out, slowly helping her out of her top. I can tell she's embarrassed, being left in only her bra, so I press our chests together and kiss the side of her face until the cool air of the room on my back is replaced again by her fingers dancing across the skin.

I leave on her bra for now, but kiss the top of her chest, on her collarbone, hearing her breathing stagger as I trail farther down into the valley between her two breasts and then back up to peck each covering lightly. She gasps and pulls at the hair against the base of my neck, making me hiss.

"Am I doing alright?" I can hear her voice rumble inside her chest.

I try not to laugh at her question, but seeing her laying there with her eyes wide in question, hair a wild mass above her, I can't help the grin that spreads my face wide.

"You're doing amazing," I whisper and kiss her lips gently.

"Draco? Tell me what to do."

"Take my hands," I say. She does, her fingers, small and soft, thread through mine. I pull her arms up and put her hands at the side of her head so I can see that scar on the inside of her arm.

She watches me, her eyes glazed in something like passion. As I stare back down at her I can hardly believe that this is real, that she is real. I've done a lot of wrong things in my life, which makes me wonder what I did so right that I deserve her.

I kiss that word on her arm because I'll never stop feeling horrible that it's there.

"I'm going to take off your belt now, okay?" I ask her. She nods and I let go of her hands, running my fingers down her arms and onto her stomach because I'm afraid that if I just go for it I'll scare her. "You can take off mine, too," I tell her.

"Okay." Her fingers hook under my belt for a moment and then she fumbles with the buckle, fingers brushing over ever so lightly over the tented area of my pants, making me groan and my fingers shake against her belt.

When I finally get it open I kiss her again, my fingers already starting on the button of her jeans.

"I'm going to unbutton your pants now, okay?"

"Okay."

I feel her fingers do the same to my trousers, releasing some pressure when she manages to get the zipper down. Slowly, I pull the sides down, watching her face the whole time, making sure I haven't scared her or that I'm doing something wrong. She wiggles, helping to kick them off and soon both of us are in just our underwear. She's just wearing plain white panties and a nude coloured bra, nothing sexy, I wouldn't expect that from her, not sure I would even want it, because I think she looks gorgeous just the same in this plain, simple sort of way.

Things pick up then. They move faster, no matter how hard I try to slow it down. She unclasps her bra from me, which I'm thankful for because I'm not sure I could do it myself, but I peel it away from her skin to reveal her flushed breasts. I put a shaking hand over one. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. Perhaps because I'm so afraid I'll hurt her. She hums in approval so I take the other one, too and then kiss all over her bare skin.

Her legs come around my waist, pressing heat against heat, making us both gasp and groan with need. I hook my fingers in the waistline of panties and pull them down over the swell of her bum and off the length of her legs.

"Granger," I pant because I can't hardly talk. "I'm going to touch you now, okay?"

She grabs my face and pulls me down to kiss her, and since she hasn't told me no, I let my fingers graze over her stomach and down to the heat between her legs.

She gasps when I touch her, arching a little, but she doesn't complain. I rub her gently for a moment, making sure that I keep kissing and watching her face at the same time, and then I slowly sink a finger inside her.

"Oh," she says, small and gasping almost. Her legs tighten around my waist.

Pumping my finger slowly, I feel her nails grasp at the skin at the back of my neck, and when I add a second finger she surprises me by reaching between us and grabbing me through my pants.

I groan against her neck and push my fingers faster inside her until, soon, her walls and legs tighten and the hand on my back scratches a long line down my spine, rising goosebumps in its wake.

I watch her face as she comes down from her climax, the muscles in her brow relax, her face remains flushed and lips swollen, but it almost looks like she's sleeping. There's a muggle term for that, isn't there? Sleeping Beauty? Her eyelids flutter open and with that I feel her hand begin to move against me again.

She gives me this look, and I'm not sure if she's trying or not, but she looks sexy as hell. I move my hips in time with her hand and comb my fingers through her sweaty hair, rubbing the pads of my fingers on the heated skin of her scalp.

" _Draco_ ," she practically _begs_ and I'm all too happy to oblige by discarding the remainder of clothing between us and settling myself at her entrance.

I pause when she gasps and ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm nervous," she says, and indeed I can feel the blood rushing quickly against her core. "Will it hurt?"

I swallow thickly because I didn't want to have to think about how this would hurt her. I only want to think about how to pleasure her.

"Probably."

"Okay."

"Take my hands," I say again and bring them up to the sides of her head like I did before. "Squeeze when it hurts."

She nods, her fingers already tightening around my hands. "Okay."

Then I push into her slowly. So agonizingly slow. She gasps, "Ah," and her fingers press a little harder, and I slow even further. I suck her neck to stop myself from groaning loudly from pure pleasure and frustration.

When I'm finally fully inside her, hip to hip, skin to skin, it takes every bit of me not to move, to let her adjust. Her eyes are watered, her fingernails are creating crescent moons on my hands, and her lip is nearly crushed between her teeth.

"Are you okay?" I'm able to bite out, pressing my forehead to hers.

"It hurts," she whimpers.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, feeling a bit of guilt, causing her pain.

"It's okay. It's starting to feel better; good even."

I lift my head carefully, making sure not to move my lower half until she's ready, and kiss her deeply.

I can feel her pulse around me, and finally she starts to shift her hips after a bit, arching her stomach up, and I take the invitation to move.

There is a difference between sex and making love. Granger and I did more than make love. Built up years of tension and frustration, hidden passion, and perfect imperfection went into what we did, and-I'm not the romantic flowery type, but it was beautiful. And when we both reached our peaks all that frustration finally ebbed away and it felt amazing. I felt looser, my muscles actually seemed to relax as if they had been in a constant state of tension before.

As we come off our high I kiss her and we roll over. I mess up the bed by pulling the covers around us, but she just giggles and snuggles deeper into my chest. And I nearly want to burst with how perfect this is. Us laying together, arms around, fingers touching, memorizing the smell and feel and sound of every part of one another as we drift into drowsy sleep is almost more intimate than making love.

Right as I'm sure I'm about to fall asleep with her in my arms, I open my eyes to look at her lidded face for just a second and I think about that little black box again and I make a promise to myself that I'll ask her someday, no matter what, and I'll make sure she says yes, because I can't hardly stand to picture my life without her.

"Draco?" she says, startling me a little because I had thought she'd fallen asleep. I open my eyes to find her looking at me. She's a slight smirk on her face that makes her look rather triumphant, but at what, I don't know. "I told you I didn't want anyone better." she says.

I laugh and pull her tighter still. "Me neither," I say.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think in a review, bitte! Kudos to whomever it was that commented on _Fifteen Moments_ that they wanted a sequel, you successfully guessed my motive! :D**

 **Also, I'm thinking about just one more sequel to this. I've already got ideas, I just want to know what everyone else would think/suggest about one more. Let me know about that, too!**

 **Thanks again!**


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